


Open to Interpretation

by endofnight



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Enjolras gets sick, Enjolras may have ulterior motives, Gen, Grantaire gets frustrated, Grantaire helps him out, M/M, prompt, silly french revolutionaires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:10:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofnight/pseuds/endofnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras loses his voice. Grantaire interprets for him for the rest of the day. Grantaire contemplates murdering Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open to Interpretation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [handahbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handahbear/gifts).



"It'll be fine," Grantaire said. "It's only for a week or so. You can just rest your throat--don't give me that look, Enjolras, I can live without  _that_ for a week, for the sake of your health--and drink a lot of your gross, herbal tea and get better and then you can go around yelling-- _orating_ ," he corrected hastily, "to your heart's content again. Quit whining."

At yet another look from Enjolras, Grantaire rolled his eyes. " _Proverbially_  whining." He paused. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice."

Enjolras opened his mouth to speak, tips of his ears pinking when nothing but a squeak emerged. He rifled in his ever-present gray messenger bag and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, hastily scrawling in his messy handwriting.

Grantaire leaned over to read what he wrote and frowned. "No, I am not your interpreter. You have to have a special degree for that, plus I don't speak sign language." 

He waited patiently as Enjolras furiously scribbled more before leaning over again to read.

"Can't we just cancel the meeting?  _I'm_  certainly not going to lead it with you out of commission." He read along as Enjolras quickly scrawled across the pad of paper. "I'm not going to wait for you to write everything so I can repeat it like some kind of--no, I'm not repeating that word." 

He sat back and lit a cigarette, ignoring Enjolras's glare. A thought occurred to him.

"This is great. I don't have to listen to you bitch at me about my habits for a whole week. We should institute this as a monthly thing." He rolled his eyes at the look Enjolras gave him. "Please, as if you could live without sex." He barked out a laugh as Enjolras's cheeks flamed red. One of his very favorite things about Enjolras was the smooth, white expanse of his porcelain skin, and how it looked under his own darker, ruddy skin. He also enjoyed how it glowed like a beacon at the merest hint of any embarrassment Enjolras felt.

"Listen." He blew out smoke, away from Enjolras, and leaned close. "I know this sucks. But it's better to have to deal with this than do permanent damage with a longer downtime, you know?" 

He was patient as Enjolras scribbled furiously, taking the notepad from him when he was finished. He read the messy scrawl, frowning.

"It's really not a big deal, baby. And you don't have to feel bad." He sighed, stubbing the cigarette out in his ashtray. "Fine. I'll talk for you at the meeting tonight."

He watched, lighting a cigarette as Enjolras gave a satisfied nod and stood to pack up his bag. “I don’t have to go to class with you, right? We’re just talking in front of our friends?” Enjolras just gave him a _look._

He waited patiently as Enjolras furiously scribbled more before leaning over again to read.

"I’ll have you know,” he said, with a huff, “that I have a very important cla—what are you—are you _laughing_? You silent freak, you don’t get to laugh at me.” Enjolras’s face was turning red with silent laughter. Grantaire gave a haughty sniff. “I’ll have you know that I take my _Roman Interpretations of Greek Classics_ class _very_ seriously. The Romans were a bunch of backwater, culture-stealing troglodytes.” At Enjolras’s arched eyebrow, Grantaire sighed and barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Fine. I will follow you around like a _puppy_ and be the voice box to your Stephen Hawking. Stop looking at me like that.”

_***_

Grantaire sat at a desk in Enjolras’s third classroom of the day and let his head fall to the surface with a _thunk_. He pulled his arms up to block out the light. If he fell asleep, he might disappoint Enjolras, but maybe Enjolras would leave him alone.

He barely restrained the sigh when his beloved boyfriend started poking him roughly on the arm.

“What!” He shot up and looked at Enjolras across the row. His heart melted almost immediately at the hopeful smile the other man gave him, holding out a handful of stapled pages with one of his now-ubiquitous sticky notes stuck to the front.

Grantaire took it from him, eyeing him warily and read the sticky note.

_I have to present this paper to the class._

_I’m first. Professor Vermette offered an extension, but I was hoping you could read this for me? She said it was ok._

_Please?_

Grantaire bit back his choice words and looked up at Enjolras, who was nodding encouragingly.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll read it. Stop looking at me like that.”

Grantaire sat back, not looking over at Enjolras. He knew his boyfriend just wanted his help, but he couldn’t seem to keep his black mood at bay anymore. All day, he’d been answering questions for Enjolras, continuing discussions, and now he had to present a paper about a subject he knew nothing about.

He glanced down at the paper. He had to present a paper about _the Benefits of the Fall of the Last Tsar_. He dealt with listening to Enjolras bitch about the French monarchy and the British monarchy and he had to deal with fucking Russia, too.

He barely kept from muttering under his breath when the professor called his name, ignoring Enjolras when he patted his leg encouragingly.

He stood in front of the class, letting out a huff of breath and began to read the paper.

***

Several hours of class and several hours of abject humiliation later, Grantaire was positively exhausted and shaking for a drink. He could swear, if Enjolras were less of a man, that Enjolras was doing this on purpose. It just seemed awfully shady to Grantaire that Enjolras had a comment to make about every single point his professors and classmates brought up today.

He opened the door and strode into the Musain with a relieved sigh. He could already feel the tension melting from his body and the siren song of his favored whiskey was making his parched mouth water. He was brought to an abrupt stop when Enjolras snagged his elbow.

Looking back, Grantaire just raised his eyebrows. Enjolras mimicked him and looked toward the table in the corner that was hosting their friends.

Feeling his albeit rare patience start to bubble away, Grantaire carefully extricated his arm from Enjolras’s grip and bit down on his cheek to keep from snapping a response.

“I just want to get a drink first,” he told Enjolras with forced calm. He didn’t miss the look of distaste on Enjolras’s face. “What!” He exploded, hands thrown wide. “I have been disgustingly sober _all day_ because I’ve been dealing with you—“ He couldn’t stop himself from what he said, or from pointing at Enjolras, even though he knew he would regret both things later. “—you and your stupid debates and ideals _all day_ because you couldn’t take one fucking day off of classes, but it’s ok for me to miss _my_ class and I’m sure you’ll find some way to hold that against me in the future, won’t you, you just love that, poor little Grantaire, poor little fuck up Grantaire, he’ll barely graduate from university because he can’t be bothered to—“ His cut himself off when Enjolras’s hand came down firmly over his mouth. The only sound in the Musain was his harsh breathing.

“You’re right,” Enjolras said, his deep voice quiet, and scratchy, and raw. “I _was_ doing it on purpose. But only because I like hearing you talk.” He swallowed painfully. “I like hearing what you have to say. You’re brilliant, Grantaire, and the depths of your mind continue to astound me. Surely you can forgive me for taking advantage of the situation if only to hear you speak more.”

Grantaire just blinked at him. The first thought that floated through his mind was _holy hell, Enjolras sounds like shit_. But that was dumb, so he kept that to himself.

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he could form the words. He was sure he resembled a giant, disheveled fish. “You like hearing me talk?”

Enjolras just gave him an “are you stupid?” look, one that he should probably have patented.

“Of course I like hearing you talk. Aside from the fact that you’re my boyfriend, and I love you, you’re a brilliant man.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think…” He quailed at the look on Enjolras’s face. “Right. Shutting up.”

Enjolras hugged him close before pulling back just enough to drop a light kiss on his lips. “Thank you for everything you’ve done today. I promise I’ll help you with your homework for the classes you missed. Now, come on, we have a meeting. We can’t stay long, we have to practice for debate.” He took Grantaire’s hand and started to lead him toward the table where their friends were gathered.

Grantaire stopped in his tracks.

“Wait. Debate?” Enjolras just smiled at him. “Son of a _bitch_!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
